The memory of his voice, his gaze, the heavy stillness that had fallen between them in this very place returned with almost painful clarity.
Would he come back?
That question had haunted her from the moment Mr. Collins delivered the news of their departure.
She had not been surprised—how could she be, when she had lived the memory of his rejection once before?
And yet, foolish though it might be, she had hoped.
Hoped that this time, with Colonel Fitzwilliam perhaps better understanding the truth, Fitzwilliam Darcy might have found his way back to her—sooner.
But he had not.
Still, she reminded herself, not all was lost.
Colonel Fitzwilliam had said,"We need time. He needs time. But I will help, if I can."
And Elizabeth knew: a soldier’s promise was not given lightly.
She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the clean, rain-sweet air.
Fitzwilliam Darcy was not a man to be hurried.
He would not be driven by passion alone—not when so much had been upended.
He would weigh her words, consider their meaning, measure them against his own instincts and affections.
No, she did not like how things stood now.
But she understood.
As she reached the bend in the grove where the trees opened to a wider view of the park, Elizabeth paused.
The wind tugged gently at her shawl, and she wrapped it more tightly about her.
The breeze whispered through the branches above her like a secret only nature could keep.
She thought of the future—not with certainty, but with hope.
When she returned from her morning walk, she found Charlotte standing by the gate, her arms folded across her chest, a pensive look upon her face.
"You will be missed," Charlotte said quietly.
Elizabeth offered her friend a soft smile. "And you shall be well rid of me, I imagine."
Charlotte’s answering smile was gentle, but wry. "Not at all. Your company has made this time brighter. You have given me much to think on."
There was a brief pause before Elizabeth reached for her friend’s hand.
"I want to thank you again—for everything."
Charlotte tilted her head, her expression fond. "For tolerating my husband?" she said dryly.
Elizabeth laughed. "Among many things, yes. But also for being exactly who you are. Steady, practical, kind."
Charlotte’s eyes softened. "You have changed, Lizzy. Grown more thoughtful. More serious, even. Not duller—but deeper."
Elizabeth said nothing, but her heart stirred at the truth of it.
